The Grotto
by TheologyDiscography
Summary: Through the ups and downs, the grotto seems to center both of their lives, though neither can figure out why once they're apart. Pre-slash.
1. Chapter 1

This story was inspired by a story my sister Rayne wrote for me, called 'Whisky lullabye'.

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"Go, Harry. Just go." Draco's cold voice rolled over him. He searched the cold silver eyes for any hint of the love he'd thought he'd seen there, but they were flat and blank.

"Draco-"

"No Harry. You knew when we started that it wouldn't be forever. Just go."

"But Draco-"

"Harry, you're making this harder than it needs to be. Then again, you always make things harder on yourself, don't you?" He ignored the tears rolling down Harry's cheeks, tears of fear and heartbreak. Harry just stood there; snow falling into his coal-black hair, staring in disbelief at his love. "Goodbye, Harry."

He turned suddenly, and staggered away. He circled the house to the little park that was behind it. Just at the property boundaries, there was an alcove, a lover's nook. It had always been their special place. Draco watched from the kitchen window as he collapsed into it, now sobbing openly.

He wrapped his arms around his legs, oblivious to the falling temperature, or the snow that was still falling. He just sat there, wondering what could have gone wrong, why Draco had broken up with him. He'd thought that Draco loved him; he knew he loved Draco.

-

* * *

-

The owl tapping at her window startled her, but never let it be said that Hermione Granger couldn't cope with unexpected circumstances. Everyone who would write her knew she was on a sabbatical, so it must be important if they'd written her. She read through the letter quickly, confused.

_Granger,_

_Find Harry. Stupid idiot is about to kill himself if you don't do something._

It was unsigned, and she didn't recognize the handwriting.

Who was on first name basis with Harry, but not with her? The only person she could think of was Malfoy, but she pushed that thought away. There was no reason for Malfoy to write her something like this. They'd been lovers for years, and it wasn't likely that he'd let anything happen to Harry.

-

* * *

-

Warm arms closed around him, and for a second he thought Draco had relented. Then he caught the warm rose scent Hermione always wore, so different from Draco's calming sandalwood. She lifted him like he was a child again, Apperating him to St. Mungo's. He limply allowed himself to be bundled off, and treated for his advanced hypothermia. It didn't matter anymore.

-

Hermione sat beside the bed, watching her best friend. He was not asleep, but he might as well have been. He wouldn't respond to anything. Vaguely, she wondered where Draco was. Whenever anything happened to Harry, Draco was always there, often before she even knew something was wrong. She wondered why she had found him like that in the first place; crying in the one place she knew he associated with Draco and Draco alone.

-

It was weeks before Harry would respond to anything, and months before he would speak. St. Mungo's released him once he was responsive again, and he returned home. When he was not doing some sort of household maintenance, he could usually be found sitting at his kitchen table, knocking back shots of vodka. When he wasn't, he simply couldn't be found.

-

* * *

-

Draco looked out the window at the overgrown alcove at the edge of his property. He had never taken any other lovers there; that would always be him and Harry's place. It just felt wrong to bring others there, though before Harry he had brought many people there. He didn't know why it was Harry's place in hims mind, nor why he couldn't keep any of his lovers longer than a few months anymore. He had heard nothing about Harry after the report on his bout of hypothermia, so Draco assumed he was ok. Harry was always happier when he managed to avoid the spotlight, so the lack of information didn't worry him. Harry had known when they started their relationship that Draco had no intention of it being permanent. Draco had a habit of breaking his relationships before anything got too serious. He didn't really know why the breakup had hit Harry so hard. Maybe he'd waited too long . . .. No. The Gryffindor had just been shocked. That's all.

-

Harry sat on his bed, staring morosely at a picture. Even to his drunk mind, Draco was the most beautiful person on the planet. But that was not what had made him fall in love with the blond. It was what had attracted him, but it was his personality once they'd started dating that had made him want to be together forever. And for a while, he'd thought that the blond wanted it too. Obviously, he'd been wrong.

Hermione burst into his room suddenly; obviously he'd been too drunk to remember to put up the spells so she couldn't find him.

"Harry? What are you doing?" she asked gently. She sat on the bed beside him so she could see the picture he clutched so tightly. It was a picture of Harry and Draco, laughing as they posed together. Instinctively, she knew they were in the same place where she had found Harry.

"What's wrong, Harry?" She had given up on expecting an answer, but she still asked anyway. He turned suddenly, throwing the picture on the bed, and clung to her shirt, holding on as if he were afraid she'd be torn away. She gently wrapped her arms around his shaking form, stroking his hair. It hurt so much to see him torn up like this. Before whatever had happened, he'd rarely drank, and it was even more rare that he'd get drunk. But even drunk, he was always so cheerful, and she still had no idea what had happened to change that.

"He said for me to leave. That he didn't want me anymore. He never was in love with me. I wouldn't have let myself fall in love if I'd known he would drop me like that," he whispered into her shoulder, still sobbing. She held him tight until he fell asleep, then left, knowing that he would sleep until late in the morning. Now that she finally had some proof, it was time to go beat some sense into a certain blonde Slytherin.

-

* * *

-

She Apperated to Draco's house. How dare he break Harry's heart like that?! She pounded on the door. A stranger opened it.

"I need to talk to Malfoy. Now." He drifted languidly to the door, standing just behind the man who'd opened the door, who was watching her, almost amused.

"Granger," he said coolly.

"Malfoy," her voice was harsh with repressed anger.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?" he asked sarcastically, motioning her inside. As she passed him, she slapped him as hard as she could across the face. His new lover glared at her and moved to kiss his rapidly reddening cheek. He was pushed away.

"There's only one thing that would cause you to act that way," he said slowly. "Something's wrong with the Golden Boy, and you think it's my fault."

She nodded grimly. "I know it's your fault, you heartless bastard."

He cocked an eyebrow at her. "Heartless is fair enough, but you know very well that I am no bastard." She glared at him, while his lover looked at them in confusion. "So why do you think whatever-it-is is my fault?"

"You know he was in St. Mungo's for hypothermia last winter." He nodded. "What you don't know is that it was three weeks before he would respond to anything. It was at least seven months before he would speak to anybody. He spends his days renovating his house, and the evenings drinking until he passes out, or runs upstairs to stare at the one picture he has of the two of you together. He finally, after more than a year, actually said something about why he's upset. AND DO YOU KNOW WHY?!" Draco shook his head mutely, eyes wide. "BECAUSE YOU LET HIM FALL IN LOVE WITH YOU, THEN YOU DUMPED HIM!" she fairly collapsed into a chair, tears running down her face. "He barely eats anymore. He drinks himself into unconsciousness, or cries himself to sleep. And it's all your fault. All your fault. He's slowly killing himself, and he doesn't care." Draco abruptly left the room, leaving his lover to hesitantly attempt to comfort her.

-

* * *

-

Though it was spring, the days were just barely warm enough to be comfortable. As Draco made his way out to the grotto for the first time in months, he shivered slightly. But he didn't even think of returning for a jacket. This was his penance. He sat on their bench, careful to stay on his half, though he had no real reason to. He just sat there, holding vigil; waiting, but for what, he didn't know. The night passed, and he watched the sun come up over the edge of the hedges. Still he waited. Suddenly, his lover sat down beside him.

"I never even knew this was here," he said softly. Draco rounded on him angrily.

"That's because it's not your place! It's his place! It's his place. His place, always." A tear slid down his face, breaking free of the Malfoy mask. He didn't bother to wipe it away.

"You're in love with him, aren't you? Then why'd you break up with him?"

"I don't know, Kev. At the time, I thought it was better. I didn't realize he was already in love with me, but I could see he was falling. I knew I'd hurt him. So I thought it was better to leave before it got that far. I didn't realize it was too late."

"And you never have lasting relationships because you're terrified of falling in love. That's why you finally dumped him, because you realized YOU were falling for HIM." Draco looked up at him, startled. "And that's why I think it's best to end this relationship now. Because he needs you more than I ever could, or would ever want to." With that, he stood up, and left.

-

Harry sat at his kitchen table, absently spinning a bottle of vodka as he debated whether he should paint his house blue or lavender. Or whether he should start with the inside, and worry about the outside later.

"Inside first, definitely," he murmured to himself as he absently raised the bottle to his lips. He only bothered to get a glass when he was expecting company.

He was so absorbed in the half empty bottle that he never noticed the two figures on the other side of the room. One started to walk over to him, but was restrained. "Watch. See what you've done to him." He took another swig out of the bottle, then capped it carefully and placed it in the fridge. He then staggered up the stairs, still oblivious to his guests.

"What was that?" Draco asked sharply. He had never seen Harry so oblivious; even when he was drunk, he had retained an uncanny sense of when others were around. But it was obvious that he had not noticed them.

"He wasn't expecting company, so he did not notice we were there. He wouldn't have noticed that we were there unless one of us touched him; physical contact is the only way to get his attention anymore." Hermione murmured sadly.

"Why do you let him drink so much?"

"The one time I took his drink, he scared me to death." Correctly interpreting his disbelieving look, she snorted softly. "No, he didn't threaten me, you know very well he wouldn't do that. I found him sitting on the edge of the bathtub with a razor pressed against his arm; it had just started to break the skin. I gasped and he looked up and gave me the saddest look, and calmly asked me for a drink. I had much rather he drink if the other option is he slit his wrists." Draco stared at her in shock. She just shook her head sadly and pulled him across the room.

She led him up the set of stairs that Harry had just climbed, to Harry's bedroom. She pushed the door open, motioning for him to go in. Harry stood in front of a dresser, the top of which seemed to have been made into an inconspicuous shrine. Scattered across the top were various trinkets that he had given Harry, and a few pieces he didn't recognize that Harry had apparently gotten to give him. And in the center was a photo, in an elaborate silver frame. He couldn't tell what the picture was from where he was standing, but he could guess. On their last anniversary, Harry had persuaded Draco to take a picture with him; it had actually been one of the signs that told him that Harry was becoming too attached to him. There was no doubt in his mind that this was the photo that Harry was staring at so intently. He took a step forward, then stopped and glanced back at Granger. She made a little encouraging motion with her hands. Not much, but it was enough.

"Harry." He stepped forward. Harry seemed not to have heard him. He gently laid a hand on Harry's shoulder.

"I'm fine, Hermione," Harry said somewhat irritably.

"At the moment, you don't look very fine, and I am definitely not Granger." At the first sound of his voice, Harry spun around staring at him in shock.

"Draco," he whispered, sounding as if he feared he had lost his mind. Then his face clouded over. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?!YOU CHOSE TO END IT, NOT ME, WHY CAN'T YOU STOP TORTURING ME?!" Draco stepped back at the anger and pain in Harry's voice, staring in shock as Harry collapsed, sobbing, onto the floor at his feet.

He glanced uncertainly at Granger, who made an impatient gesture towards Harry. He knelt awkwardly, and touched Harry's shoulder gently, half expecting Harry to shove him away. He did nothing of the sort, instead ignoring Draco's hesitant advance. Granger rolled her eyes at him. Honestly, Harry wasn't likely to hurt him. He sat leaning slightly against Harry, remembering that he had always found that comforting, and wrapped his arms around the sobbing boy. He tried to pull away, but Draco wouldn't let him go, and soon he was crying into Draco's shoulder. Slowly the sobbing died down, and after a while Draco realized that Harry had fallen asleep. He gently lifted him off the floor, tucking him into his bed. Granger sat him down in a comfortable chair next to the bed, then cast a spell.

"That'll wake you when he starts to wake. Hangover Potion," she added, handing him a small glass bottle. "I'll see you tomorrow."

-

An electric shock ran through his body, not really unpleasant, but definitely startling. He opened his eyes to see Harry shifting in front of him. He quickly retrieved the bottle and popped the cork off it, holding it to Harry's lips. They parted instinctively, allowing the potion to slide down his throat. Harry's eyes slid open, flashing around as he took in his surroundings. Then he froze, staring at the ceiling.

"Harry?" He reached out and stroked the side of Harry's face gently. There was no response. "Harry?! HARRY, answer me!"

Desperately, Draco tried to think of something, anything that would bring Harry back. Finally, unable to think of anything else, he climbed into the bed with Harry, kicking off his shoes as he moved, and wrapped his arms around the motionless man. Pulling Harry over so that he rested against his chest, Draco sighed softly.

"I'm sorry, Harry . . . . ." he murmured against the far-too-pale neck. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I thought it'd keep you from getting hurt later. Forgive me?" No answer, not that he'd really expected one. Harry was in shock, and he could only hope that he would snap out of it sooner this time than he did last time. He didn't know if he could stay here three weeks with Harry so unresponsive, but he rather thought that if he left, Harry wouldn't snap out of it at all.

About an hour later, Hermione walked in. "Oh, my," she murmured, obviously thinking that they were both asleep. He tilted his head so he could meet her eyes.

"I'm awake. Actually, I think we're both awake, though I'm not really sure." She gasped and ran over to them.

"HARRY?! Harry, please answer me!" she cried. He blinked slowly, more response than Draco'd gotten. "Harry? Talk to me Harry!" She ran her hands gently over his face, and across his arms. "C'mon, focus, come back Harry!" After an agonizingly long moment, Harry stirred slowly. "Oh, thank god."

"Hermione?" he whispered slowly. "I think the oddest things, sometimes . . . . ." he smiled sadly. "I think I almost convinced myself that Draco came by yesterday. I'd say no more drinking, but I've already proven I can't handle it sober."

"Well, _I _think you've drunk quite enough for the rest of your life." Draco murmured into his ear. Harry looked startled for a moment, then the saddest expression came over his face.

"I'm still dreaming," he said sadly, closing his eyes against this realization.

"What makes you say that?" Draco asked, amused despite himself.

"Because you couldn't possibly really be here. You made it clear you didn't want to see me again." A tear traced its way down Harry's cheek.

"Maybe when I said that I was being an idiot."

"See? More proof you're not really there. You'd never really call yourself an idiot. You've got too much pride. Though I must admit that this is rather nice." Harry leaned almost contentedly against him, if you ignored the tears streaking down his cheeks. Draco looked helplessly at Hermione, who shrugged as if to say, 'it's your problem, deal with it.' He sighed softly.

"How can I convince you that it's really me?" he murmured into Harry's ear.

"You can't. Because it's not really you." Draco sighed, and slipped out of the bed. He motioned to Hermione.

"Harry, I'm going to go get you some breakfast, OK? You just stay there, I'll bring it up." Harry nodded to Hermione and relaxed against his pillows.

"How the hell am I supposed to fix that?!" Draco demanded harshly, slamming things around the kitchen. When Hermione came over to help, he shoved her away. "Secret recipe. It used to be one of his favorite things about a morning after. He always said that I cook like an angel. Though I'm not sure why angels would be cooking . . .." Hermione giggled.

"It's a figure of speech. Anyway, just do what you think is best, get him to accept that you're really here." She said nothing more, but watched as he finished cooking, arranging the food onto a china plate. He placed it onto the tray that Hermione handed him, added a cup of coffee and all the little things that had always made Harry comment on how well Draco took care of him.

"You take that on up to him. I'll bring ours up in a moment. Don't say anything, just give it to him." She nodded and headed off. Draco puttered around the kitchen a while longer, then headed up the stairs, thankful that Granger had left the door open, as his hands were rather full.

"It was your turn to cook, but you didn't really look up to it," Draco drawled as he walked in, handing Hermione her tray as he passed her. Harry smiled softly at him as Draco joined him on the bed.

"It's wonderful. Thank you." He murmured. Unable to stop himself, Draco leaned over and stole a kiss.

"Is it possible that I really am here?" he whispered into Harry's ear. Harry nodded slowly.

"Hermione sure as hell can't cook this, angel." Hermione pretended to be offended. They just grinned at her. Finally, she relented, and grinned back at them, relieved that Harry was starting to act normally again.

Harry stood up suddenly, and dressed quickly before giving Hermione and Draco each a peck on the cheek. "See you later, angel. You'll know where, and when. Bye 'Mione." He smiled mysteriously before disappearing.

Draco looked at Hermione, somewhat surprised to see her smiling.

"What?"

"It's the first time he's left the house in months. He orders everything in. Oh, Draco, he's getting better!" She hugged him exuberantly and then disappeared. Draco shook his head, swearing once again that he would never understand Gryffindors, and Apperated home.

-

He toyed around all afternoon, before conjuring a large bouquet of red chrysanthemums, forget-me-nots, honeysuckle, rue, red, light pink, and orange roses, blue violets, and red and yellow tulips, creating a chaotic and yet oddly harmonious arrangement. He grinned at his success, and Apperated to Harry, offering the bouquet from bended knee, grinning like a schoolboy when they were graciously accepted. Harry probably didn't know what they meant; yet Draco felt as though he had just been forgiven.

"Harry, will you forgive me? Will you go out with me again?"

"Only if you promise to stay with me. I don't think I could bear to have my heart broken again."

"Forever, or as close to it as you'll have me. I was such an idiot when I sent you away. You're the best thing to ever come into my life." Draco trailed off somewhat uncertainly as Harry raised a finger to his lips. Metaphorically taking his courage into his hands and holding on for dear life, he darted his tongue out and licked the digit placing gentle pressure against his lips. Harry giggled, and Draco was sure that everything would be all right again. He swept Harry into his arms, kissing him soundly, Apperating them from their grotto into his bedroom. They had a lot of catching up to do.

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**-**

ok, the flowers at the end do have a meaning, and were chosen very carefully. They are Draco's apology, in the language of flowers.

They mean:

Red chrysamthamum: I love

forget-me-nots: true love

honeysuckle: devoted affection

rue: regret

red rose: true love

light pink rose:desire, passion, joy of life, youth, energy

orange rose: desire, passion

blue violets: faithfulness

red tulip: declaration of love

yellow tulip: hopeless love


	2. epilogue

Several people objected to how I ended the story, but honestly, I really wasn't thinking about them popping off to have sex immediately, and didn't even notice that it sounded like they did until it was pointed out to me. It was bothering me, so I made this little epilogue to draw out that they did not, in fact, immediately fuck.

Honestly, my bedroom's my favorite room, and it's where I go to talk to people and just snuggle. People just have dirty minds. (Though with what I usually write, I suppose I can't blame people for immediately thinking 'sex!'. lol)

* * *

Draco lay back against the multitudes of pillows at the head of his bed, running his fingers through Harry's hair. Harry made a contented sound, shifting to press more firmly against him from where he was lying draped against Draco's chest, his lower body resting between Draco's spread legs. It was hard to believe how right this felt, finally. He'd been looking for and running from deeper emotional attachments, and he was scared out of his wits now, but at the same time, he didn't think he'd be able to leave Harry again.

Harry stroked a hand down Draco's bare chest, fingers stopping at the edge of his trousers. He'd vanished both shirts as soon as they'd gotten inside, but neither was in a hurry to take anything else off. They were bot just enjoying being together again.

"You're so pale," he murmured, his breath tickling Draco's throat. Draco shrugged.

"I've always been pale."

"Not this pale. You're skin's almost blue." Draco snorted.

"I am not blue." Harry nodded.

"Yes you are," he said mischievously. "You're so white you're blue!"

"I haven't been outside a lot recently." Harry sobered.

"That's not healthy, you know." Draco snorted.

"You're one to talk," he said before he thought about it. "At least I wasn't drinking myself into a stupor while staying inside." He picked up one of Harry's hands. "It's not fair. How did you stay so tan?" Harry chuckled, deciding to ignore Draco's callous words, knowing he hadn't meant them to be hurtful.

"It's not tan. My skin's naturally that color." Draco snorted.

"Still not fair. You tan, I just burn like hell." Harry didn't respond, just cuddling against him again. Draco held him close, burying the fingers of one hand in his soft black hair.


End file.
